


The Way to a Man's Heart

by enigmaticblue



Series: Science Boys in Love [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Food Porn, M/M, Science Husbands, Trope Bingo Round 3, Trope Subversion/Inversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 20:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2554679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In retrospect, Bruce blames Clint for everything, from Tony’s sudden desire to learn how to cook, to all the meals and snacks he has to sneak to avoid starving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Way to a Man's Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thomasina75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thomasina75/gifts).



> Written for thomasina75’s birthday. She wanted domestic Science Husbands and Tony cooking for Bruce. I’m using it to fill the WILD CARD (food porn) prompt for trope_bingo. Set before the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

In retrospect, Bruce blames Clint for everything, from Tony’s sudden desire to learn how to cook, to all the terrible meals he has to eat with a smile on his face, to the meals and snacks he has to sneak just to keep himself from starving.

 

While it’s true that Bruce does occasionally troll people, Clint is, by far, the worst on the team for finding weak spots and poking.

 

And the thing is, Bruce had learned to cook from his aunt, mostly comfort-type food, stuff that’s filling and can be cheaply made, but she’d taught him the fundamentals. What tasted good together, how to make basic sauces, how to taste as you go, and add the right ingredients, how to check consistency and adjust when necessary.

 

Cooking, Bruce had discovered, is a bit like chemistry. Once you knew the fundamentals, you could start experimenting, and Bruce had picked up a few things in every country he visited. He’d gotten recipes from the locals, used different ingredients not always available in the States, and learned a few new techniques. He’d learned how to cook on a hot plate, and a gas camp stove, and even a Tandoor oven.

 

So, it’s only natural that when they have a team dinner night, Bruce offers to cook, and makes a couple of large pans of lasagna—his aunt’s recipe—and a couple of loaves of garlic bread, as well as a large salad. One pan probably would have been enough, but he, Steve, and Thor can each eat enough for two people.

 

Dinner starts out well enough; they’re all still awkward with each other, getting to know and trust each other. That’s why Bruce had started inviting everyone over when he could, now that he and Tony were married.

 

And that’s a thought that never fails to make him feel smile. That future he and Tony had once dreamed of and longed for? It’s here. It’s the nights they sleep next to each other, and the mornings they’re tangled together, and the days in the lab, and even the awkward team dinners.

 

Which Bruce is starting to seriously rethink.

 

It might be the apron, but Bruce doesn’t want tomato sauce on his shirt, which is one he’d stolen from Tony. It might just be that Clint is kind of an asshole, and this is the third team dinner that they’ve hosted.

 

In any case, Steve is being his usual helpful self by getting food on the table, Tony is actually holding a pleasant conversation with Natasha and Thor, and then Clint says, “So, I guess we know who wears the pants in the family.”

 

Bruce pauses and carefully sets down the pan of lasagna. “Tony and I both prefer pants,” he says with a straight face. “Not that we have anything against those who prefer other forms of dress.”

 

“What are you insinuating?” Tony asks sharply, because there are just some forms of bait that he can’t avoid rising to.

 

Then again, Tony had dealt with Obadiah Stane for a lot of years, and Bruce hadn’t been forced to hide anything. In fact, Betty had known he was bisexual, but then she’d also known that he’d only been with one other person before her, so she’d been fairly accepting.

 

“Just that Bruce is always cooking,” Clint says. “So, either you wear the pants, or the great Tony Stark is incapable of cooking a simple meal.” He yelps a moment later, and Bruce throws Natasha a grateful look.

 

“Are you saying the ability to cook is limited to women?” Steve asks, and Bruce knows him well enough to know that he’s being purposely obtuse. “Because all the celebrity chefs these days seem to be men.”

 

When everyone stares at him, Steve shrugs. “What? I watch the Food Network.”

 

“Steve is right,” Natasha says with a sharp look at Clint. “The ability to cook is not tied to gender, _Clint_.”

 

Clint raises his hands. “Fine, fine. We all acknowledge that Bruce is the superior cook in the relationship, and it has nothing to do with gender.”

 

And that’s why Bruce blames Clint for _everything_.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony knows that Bruce is a genius, and he can cook. There are plenty of idiots out there who can cook. Therefore, he should be able to put together a meal.

 

Some small part of him knows that he should probably start small, like with sandwiches, but he’s _Tony Stark_. He’s a genius. He should be able to make anything.

 

So, he does what anybody would do, and he calls Elaine. “Aunt Elaine! Hi, I need to know what Bruce’s favorite meal is,” Tony says.

 

“And why would you want to know that?” Elaine asks, sounding amused.

 

“Because Clint said I couldn’t cook,” Tony replies honestly. “So, I need your help.”

 

She laughs. “Well, when he was a kid, he loved my meatloaf. I can send you my recipe if you like.”

 

“No, I’ve got it,” Tony says, because how hard is meatloaf? It’s meat, in the shape of a loaf, with some ketchup. “No problem.”

 

“Just remember that you can call me if you need anything,” Elaine replies, sounding even more amused.

 

“Jarvis, do we have what we need for meatloaf?” Tony asks.

 

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis replies. “Would you like me to display a recipe? There are hundreds to choose from.”

 

Tony considers the question. “Yeah, sure. Whatever one has the best reviews, but traditional. And let Bruce know I’m making dinner for tonight, huh?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Jarvis replies.

 

The recipe has a picture of a slice of meatloaf next to green beans and a pile of mashed potatoes, and Tony realizes that he’s going to have to think about things that go along with meatloaf. “Green beans and mashed potatoes?” Tony prompts Jarvis.

 

“I believe we have what we need of those, too,” Jarvis replies. “And I have Mrs. Walters on speed dial.”

 

“Bruce does this all the time,” Tony protests. “Idiots can cook. It can’t be that hard.”

 

There’s a very pregnant pause. “If you say so, sir.”

 

Tony reads through the recipe quickly. “Piece of cake.”

 

He dumps the raw hamburger in a bowl and glances at the recipe. “Why eggs and breadcrumbs?” he asks. “It’s meatloaf.”

 

“I have no idea, sir,” Jarvis replies.

 

“Well, that’s stupid,” Tony mutters and doesn’t bother with them. He adds salt and pepper and some ketchup. He can’t find any of the other herbs and spices, so he omits them. He dumps the meat in the pan and puts it into the oven.

 

“I believe you need to turn the oven on, sir,” Jarvis says after a few minutes while Tony tries to figure out what he needs to do for the mashed potatoes and the green beans.

 

Tony glares at the ceiling. “Smartass.”

 

Jarvis doesn’t reply.

 

Tony figures that the potatoes and green beans don’t need as much time as the meatloaf, so he can postpone starting them. He has time to go over the new plans for the large-scale repulsors he’s been asked to design.

 

He’s deep into the schematics when the smoke alarm goes off.

 

Bruce jogs into the room. “What the hell?”

 

“I don’t know!” Tony protests, because for that moment, he’s completely forgotten about the fact that he has dinner in the oven.

 

Bruce heads into the kitchen, grabs a couple of hot pads from the drawer next to the stove, and pulls out the charred meatloaf. “I assume you put this in the oven. Did you set a timer?”

 

Tony feels strangely defensive. “No. I was going to get back to it, I just—”

 

“Forgot,” Bruce finishes with a fond smile. “Don’t worry about it. We can order in.”

 

Tony frowns. “I was going to make you dinner.”

 

“Another night,” Bruce replies. “You aren’t letting what Clint said bother you, are you?”

 

Tony scoffs. “Of course not.”

 

“Tony.”

 

“I can cook!” Tony protests. “Anybody can cook!”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “What were you trying to make?”

 

“Aunt Elaine said you liked meatloaf,” Tony replies.

 

Bruce opens his mouth and then apparently thinks better of what he’d been going to say. “Yeah, I do.”

 

“Next time, maybe,” Tony says.

 

Bruce’s smile looks a little forced. “Sure, next time. But let’s order in tonight, okay?”

 

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

 

He can’t help but feel a little disappointed that his first attempt had ended in such unmitigated failure—but at least he had made a breakthrough on the repulsors.

 

~~~~~

 

“Sir, Mrs. Walters is here for a visit,” Jarvis says. “Are you available?”

 

Bruce smiles. “For my aunt? Always.”

 

She breezes into his lab wearing a floral patterned skirt, t-shirt, and denim jacket, looking at least ten years younger than she is. “You survived dinner!”

 

Bruce laughs. “The meatloaf didn’t make it to the plate. Tony got distracted and didn’t set a timer. We ordered in.”

 

She smiles. “Dodged a bullet, huh?”

 

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s the end of it,” Bruce says wryly. “Tony is weirdly invested in learning to cook.”

 

“And apparently without help,” Elaine replies. “I told him he could call me.”

 

Bruce shakes his head. “That’s not really how Tony does things, especially when he thinks he has something to prove.”

 

“How about we get lunch together,” she suggests. “Jen said she’d meet us.”

 

Bruce decides that a break wouldn’t go amiss. “Yeah, sure. That would be great.”

 

Lunch out with his aunt and cousin is a welcome treat. Bruce doesn’t think he’ll ever take them for granted, not after so many years of being out of touch, unable to talk to them, or tell them how he’s doing.

 

“And how are you and Steve doing?” Elaine asks.

 

Bruce makes a show of covering his ears. “I really don’t need to hear this.”

 

Jennifer kicks him under the table. “Stop it.”

 

“I get to tease you about your boyfriend,” Bruce protests.

 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Jennifer says with asperity. “Sometimes we go out, but he’s planning on going to D.C. for SHIELD. I doubt we’ll see much of each other.”

 

Bruce grimaces. “Sorry, Jen.”

 

She shrugs. “It’s fine. We’re both going to be busy, and we’ll see each other when we can.”

 

Elaine pats Jen’s hand. “Plenty of fish in the sea, sweetheart.”

 

Jennifer hesitates, and then admits, “The firm is considering opening up a satellite office in D.C., and they’ve approached me to see if I’d be willing to transfer.”

 

Bruce feels a pang, but quickly stifles it. “It sounds like a great opportunity.”

 

“It is, but you two are here,” Jennifer protests.

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “D.C. is a short train ride away, and I’m married to Tony Stark, remember? You want to come up for the weekend or if we want to go down there, we could probably use his private jet.”

 

“Such wanton use of resources,” she teases.

 

Bruce shrugs. “It’s for a good cause.”

 

Jennifer gives him a relieved smile. “Thanks. I haven’t made a decision yet, but it’s nice to know that I have options.”

 

Toward the end of the meal, when Jennifer excuses herself, his aunt leans in close. “That was very well done, sweetheart.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I think I’m turning into one of those happily married people who wants to see other people be just as happy.”

 

“And that includes the other Avengers?” Elaine asks, amused.

 

Bruce snorts. “Steve, sure. Thor is paired up with Dr. Jane Foster, and I wouldn’t presume to try to set Natasha up with anybody. Clint is an asshole.”

 

She laughs. “I thought you liked him.”

 

“I do,” Bruce replies. “But he’s the one who needled Tony. I have a feeling that the meatloaf is the least of my worries. At least I didn’t have to eat that.”

 

She laughs again. “Welcome to married life, Bruce.”

 

He sighs. “Don’t be surprised if I make up an excuse to have dinner with you.”

 

Elaine smiles. “You never need an excuse.”

 

“No, I know,” Bruce replies. “Thanks.”

 

“If things get too bad, just text me, and I’ll invite both of you over for dinner. Maybe I can impart some wisdom while I’m at it.”

 

“You’re the best, Aunt Elaine,” Bruce replies.

 

“And don’t you forget it,” she says.

 

Lunch buoys him, and he’s hoping that Tony will have forgotten all about learning to cook, although he’s quickly disabused of that notion around six when Jarvis says, “Your presence has been requested for dinner, Dr. Banner.”

 

Bruce closes his eyes and prays for patience. “Tell Tony I’ll be right there.”

 

He isn’t entirely sure what he smells when he steps into their living quarters. It _almost_ smells like curry, but there’s something missing. “Hey,” he says cautiously.

 

“I made chicken curry,” Tony says, sounding so fucking hopeful that Bruce knows no matter what it tastes like, he’s going to smile and eat it. “It’s probably not as good as yours, but I think it’s edible.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I’m sure it’s great.”

 

It’s not great. It’s _really_ not great. Somehow, Tony had managed to scorch the rice, even though it’s still soupy and tasteless. The chicken is rubbery and overcooked, and the sauce has no flavor. The best thing Bruce can think of to say is that the vegetables aren’t limp.

 

On the other hand, it _is_ edible, and the chicken isn’t raw, so they don’t have to worry about food poisoning. It may be the worst curry Bruce has ever eaten, but he smiles, and cleans his plate.

 

“How was it?” Tony asks anxiously.

 

Bruce would love to offer some advice, but he doesn’t think it will be taken well. “It was really good.”

 

“It didn’t really taste like yours,” Tony objects.

 

“Well, maybe add more curry powder next time,” Bruce offers in the most neutral tone possible.

 

Tony frowns. “Maybe so. But it’s not terrible?”

 

Bruce has eaten a lot worse in his time on the run, and he says, “No, it’s not terrible.”

 

Then again, he doesn’t eat nearly as much as he’d like, and he claims work to escape down to the lab, where he has a few power bars stashed for when he needs to skip meals.

 

Bruce is still in bed by midnight, though, and Tony pulls him in close. “Are you okay?”

 

“I’m great,” Bruce says honestly. Because while Tony’s cooking might not thrill him, at least he’s trying, and Bruce loves him for it.

 

“Good,” Tony says. “And dinner was okay?”

 

“Okay” is a little optimistic, but he says, “Yeah, it was good.”

 

It’s not entirely a lie when he’s had far worse meals, right?

 

He vaguely regrets it the next morning when Tony willingly rolls out of bed early—at least before 9—and Jarvis wakes Bruce up with, “You’ve been summoned to breakfast, Dr. Banner.”

 

“Dare I ask?”

 

“Pancakes and sausage,” Jarvis replies.

 

The sausage is at least relatively hard to screw up, but Bruce isn’t feeling terribly optimistic about the pancakes. “Tell Tony I’ll be right there.”

 

Unfortunately, Tony has neglected the sausage for the pancakes, so one side is rather charred, which lends a not-entirely-pleasant smoky flavor to the entire sausage. The pancakes are uniformly scorched on one side, golden brown on the other, and doughy in the middle.

 

Bruce chokes down a couple of sausages and three pancakes with some difficulty, and then resolves to be very busy for lunch no matter what happens.

 

He’s eaten food he didn’t like before with a smile on his face, but he doesn’t like lying to Tony. He’d promised that he wouldn’t lie to Tony again, and yet every meal feels like an exercise in deception.

 

But the truth feels like an exercise in cruelty, so Bruce will just have to deal with bad food for a while and hope that Tony gets bored with his attempts.

 

~~~~~

 

Tony honestly has no idea what he’s doing wrong. Bruce is eating everything he cooks—when Tony remembers to stop working in time to make dinner, or gets up early enough to make breakfast—but Tony isn’t stupid. He knows when things don’t taste good.

 

Granted, he manages a passable spaghetti and meatballs one night, although the meatballs aren’t as good as those he’s had before, and the sauce is out of a jar. Bruce has two helpings of it, though, and isn’t entirely successful at hiding his relief.

 

The French toast is decent, if bland, but with enough syrup, that doesn’t matter. His attempt at chicken soup has a similar outcome to the curry with the chicken being too dry, and the vegetables and noodles too mushy, and everything being almost flavorless.

 

It’s edible, but it’s not great, and Tony knows he’s falling short.

 

Out of desperation, he finally calls Aunt Elaine. “I need your help,” he admits.

 

She laughs, but not unkindly. “Come over for dinner tonight, and we’ll talk.”

 

“But Bruce—”

 

“Don’t worry about Bruce,” she says firmly. “Just tell him that I need help setting up my DVR.”

 

Tony doesn’t think that’s going to fool Bruce for a minute, but it’s an easy enough lie.  “Okay.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Elaine insists. “I promise that by the time I’m done with you, you’ll have at least three foolproof recipes to make for Bruce, with additional lessons to come.”

 

Tony frowns. “I think that might be promising too much.”

 

“Trust me,” Elaine replies, sounding amused. “Just be here at 6.”

 

Tony finds Bruce in his lab, and he’s working on some calculations and absently snacking on a bag of dried apples. Generally speaking, Tony is the one who is always munching on something, and he suspects that Bruce is making up for not eating as much.

 

“Hey,” Tony says.

 

Bruce shoves the bag behind his monitor, thus confirming Tony’s suspicions. “Hey. What’s up?”

 

“Your aunt wanted me to come over and set up her DVR,” Tony replies awkwardly.

 

Bruce’s eyebrows go up, but all he says is, “Okay. Should I make something for dinner?”

 

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Tony says. “Order a pizza, or whatever.”

 

“Everything okay?” Bruce asks.

 

Tony nods. “Fine. Is everything okay with you?”

 

Bruce shrugs. “I just had the munchies.”

 

“I’ll see you tonight,” Tony promises, and then pulls Bruce in for a kiss. “I love you.”

 

Bruce smiles brightly. “I love you, too.”

 

Tony drives himself across town and finds a place to park near Elaine’s brownstone, the one that had belonged to his family.

 

Come to think of it, it _still_ belongs to his family.

 

Elaine meets him at the door and leads him inside. “All right, why don’t you tell me what you’ve tried so far.”

 

Tony details his failures to date, feeling like an idiot.  


“Hmm,” she says. “Did you try using a recipe?”

 

Tony hesitates. “I forgot to set a timer with the meatloaf, and I looked at recipes for the rest of it, but there were a lot of options.”

 

“Did you taste the sauce as you went along?” Elaine asks.

 

Tony hesitates, then admits. “I wouldn’t know what to add just by how it tasted.”

 

“That will come with practice,” Elaine promises. “What you need right now are recipes that don’t require a lot of tasting, or even a lot of ingredients. You need _simple_.”

 

“I thought spaghetti and meatballs was simple,” Tony protests.

 

Elaine smiles. “Really good meatballs are a little more difficult than most people think, as is a good tomato sauce. Forget the sauces altogether right now.”

 

“Okay, fine,” Tony replies. “Where does that leave me?”

 

“That leaves you with plenty of simpler options,” Elaine replies. “And the fewer ingredients, the better. And I’ve got just the thing to get started.”

 

~~~~~

 

Bruce feels some small hope at the idea of Tony seeking help from his aunt. If anybody can set Tony straight, it’s Aunt Elaine.

 

And, while Bruce is grateful, that means he doesn’t have much time to exact his revenge.

 

Tonight should be sufficient, though.

 

Bruce has been cooking long enough to have tried a few recipes that were complete duds, and he calls Clint over for dinner and makes one of those duds. Deliberately.

 

“Where’s everybody else?” Clint asks when he enters the Penthouse.

 

Bruce smiles. “They weren’t invited. I thought it could just be the two of us.”

 

“The two of us for what?” Clint sounds cautious.

 

Bruce pulls the pizza out of the oven—well, some version of pizza, anyway. “See, Tony and I were really good until you needled him. I _like_ cooking, and I’ve had a lot of practice. But I also like making Tony happy, so I’ve been eating what he’s been trying to cook.”

 

Clint winces. “Trying, huh?”

 

“That would be the operative word,” Bruce replies. “And he’s been trying really hard. Pretty sure that’s on you.”

 

Clint shifts uncomfortably. “Okay?”

 

“So, if I have to suffer, so do you,” Bruce replies, and he hands Clint a pizza cutter.

 

Clint stares at the pan. “So, you’re feeding me pizza.”

 

Bruce smiles. “I’m feeding you the worst recipe I’ve ever come across, back when Betty was going through one of her whole grain kicks.”

 

Clint is staring in horror at what Bruce has made. “What is it?”

 

“It’s pizza,” Bruce says smugly. “Of course, it has a brown rice crust, and has vegetables and fat-free cheese, but it’s supposedly pizza.”

 

“I don’t have to eat this, do I?” Clint asks, sounding a little panicked.

 

Bruce narrows his eyes. “Do you know how hungry I’ve been recently? I get cranky when I’m hungry.”

 

That’s not exactly true—or it’s true from the standpoint that Bruce does get cranky when he’s hungry, but he’s been hungry so often that he knows how to control it.

 

Clint looks at Bruce, then at the ersatz pizza, then back at Bruce. “What do I need to do to get out of eating that?”

 

“Lay off Tony, and keep your nose out of our relationship, and I’ll put this in the trash and order real pizza,” Bruce offers. “After you eat a slice. I’m not into torture so much.”

 

Clint narrows his eyes. “Isn’t one slice torture?”

 

“No, I’d call it satisfaction,” Bruce replies.

 

Clint grimaces and takes a slice, biting into one end. “Oh, god, that’s awful.”

 

Bruce smirks. “Eat the whole slice, and I’ll call for real pizza.”

 

He hates throwing away food, but he feels the sacrifice is worth it if Clint will stop needling Tony about who cooks what and when. And he views forcing Clint to eat a slice as just penance for needling Tony and forcing Bruce to eat all manner of terrible food.

 

And, okay, maybe Bruce has gotten used to eating decent food, and he really doesn’t like going hungry when he doesn’t have to.

 

Clint bolts the slice and makes a face. “Okay, can we call for pizza and call it good? I swear, I will not get into your relationship, or tease Tony ever again.”

 

Bruce raises his eyebrows. “Why don’t I believe you?”

 

“Fine, I promise I won’t tease Tony in your presence.”

 

“And if your teasing has similar results, I reserve the right to exact revenge,” Bruce counters.

 

Clint winces, and Bruce figures there’s a pretty good chance that Clint will at least think twice before he messes with Tony. “Fair,” he says.

 

“Then I’ll call for pizza,” Bruce replies. “What do you want on yours?”

 

~~~~~

 

Tony thinks about Elaine’s advice, and he uses one of her recipes the next night. He takes every precaution, asking Jarvis to remind him when the time is up.  The timer goes off, and he sprinkles cheese over the mixture on the pan, and then puts it back in the oven.

 

“Tell Bruce dinner is almost ready,” Tony says. “He’s got three minutes.”

 

“As you wish, sir,” Jarvis says, and Tony wonders if he’s imagining the dubiousness in Jarvis’ voice.

 

Granted, Tony hadn’t programmed Jarvis with a personality, but he’s definitely developed one over the years, and Tony hadn’t exactly given anybody a reason to trust his cooking.

 

Bruce emerges from the elevator just as Jarvis announces that the three minutes are up, prompting Tony to pull the pan out of the oven. Elaine had talked about presentation, but Tony hadn’t been paying much attention to that.

 

Granted, he agrees that the user interface is important, but this is _food_. It’s all going to the same place.

 

So, he dishes up a couple of plates and sets one in front of Bruce. “Eat up.”

 

Even though he hadn’t done much about how it looked, Tony has to admit that the plates are far more appealing than his typical meals. The sausage is perfectly browned, and the squash and onions are browned around the edges, while the sage and dried cherries add a cheerful bit of color.

 

“This looks really good,” Bruce says, managing to sound enthusiastic and yet not surprised, which Tony has to admit is impressive.

 

Tony shrugs. “It’s a new recipe.”

 

And it _is_ good. Tony immediately notices the difference as compared to the last few meals—the flavors are balanced between the saltiness of the sausage and cheese, the sweetness of the cherries and squash, and the savory sage.

 

Bruce cleans his plate, and then goes back for seconds without being asked. “You can make this again any time,” he says as he slows down.

 

Tony feels the same rush of pride he had when he’d built his first computer, or when he’d made Dum-E. “Aunt Elaine may have helped a bit. Sorry for all the terrible meals.”

 

Bruce looks him straight in the eye, his next bite still suspended in midair. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we were teenagers, and I knew you couldn’t cook then, okay? It doesn’t matter to me.”

 

Tony shrugs. “Yeah, but—I like being able to do something for you.”

 

Bruce gives him a smile that’s reminiscent of the boy Tony had met decades ago. “I know just what you mean.” He pauses, and then says, “We could always try cooking together.”

 

Tony grins. “We always were better together.”

 

But he makes a mental note to send Elaine a thank you card.


End file.
